Slice of Life: Possession
by The Black Sluggard
Summary: Patience was a virtue, but it could also be a vice... Life AU. Zombies. PWP. Slash, Ryan/Esposito.


**Author's Note: **_Just a pointlessly introspective piece of filthiness. It was pretty much just waiting for Solo Duet to be finished to give it the necessary push. It takes place a significant time later, probably several months, but it doesn't make as much sense without that other fic.  
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Javier's father had never been a particularly religious man. Though he had believed in God and considered himself a Christian, his father had never made pretensions toward any particular denomination. Javier's mother, on the other hand, always had and always would consider herself Catholic—even if, by her actions, she was probably one of the most impressively _lapsed_ Catholics Javier had ever known. That had been true even while he and his sister were growing up, but the events surrounding Javier's recent illness—the changes in him, the choices he had made since, and the ways in which she continued to support him—had managed to underscore those conflicts of belief in a way that was far too obvious to ignore.

Kevin, though... Kevin had her beat.

In contrast to his mother, it was rarely the moments where Kevin _broke_ from the traditions of his faith that Javier found jarring, but rather the degree to which his partner still adhered to them. Kevin went to Mass almost every Sunday, Javier knew, and for most religious holidays, and he gave at the plate every time he did. He still went to _confession_—and Javier had tried to wrap his head around that last exactly once, and had quickly come to the decision it was something he was far more comfortable not thinking about. And yet, at the end of the day, Kevin still came home every night to a homosexual relationship with what dated papal edict had declared was a soulless corpse.

Javier couldn't even begin to fathom how his partner might justify that in his head...

According to the doctrine of Kevin's faith and his family's upbringing Javier's soul had moved on back when his heart had stopped beating. By that logic Javier wasn't even a person—in the Catholic interpretation that put him more or less on the level of an animal. There were other faiths which took a harder line, Javier knew, some even going so far as to teach that, since nature apparently abhorred a vacuum, the departed soul left room for something _else_ to take its place. After all, how better could one explain the dead, with their perverse hungers, continuing to walk amongst and corrupt the living?

Javier did not, of course, believe for one second that he was any kind of demon—though, given the sinful pursuits in which he was currently occupied, his opinion was not at its most credible in the present moment.

The post-vital condition was full of drawbacks and limitations, and while it was miles away from the worst of them, at most times Javier wouldn't hesitate to file his unreliable sex drive under that category. The highs and lows he suffered in regards to his libido were often frustrating and just as often unpredictable—and though there was a clear correlation between those highs and intervals of difficulty controlling his other drives, there were still far more lows than Javier would have liked.

Still, while his periodic disinterest in sex was at many times disappointing, at other times it afforded him a luxury to which he had never before given much thought—namely _focus_.

Because there was actually something almost freeing about being less than engaged in what he was doing—at least, in the immediate, physical way he was used to. Oh, he still more than enjoyed the ferocious rush of sensation when his lusts were cooperatively at their peak, but Javier was beginning to learn that even the lows offered their own pleasures. Because, in his cooler moods, Javier stood mostly freed from the distraction of his own desires, and could narrow all of his attention on _Kevin_.

Though patience was certainly a virtue, he had found it could just as easily become a _vice_, and Javier felt his physical limitations gave him more than enough license to get creative

Tonight, for example, Javier had been working meticulously on Kevin for nearly nine minutes without even touching his partner's cock. He had started out with his tongue—because he had already tasted Kevin everywhere else, because it as something he had wanted to try, and because Kevin had been more than happy to let him, and, fortunately, it had turned out to be a something they both enjoyed. Finally, he had fallen back to the now time-tested application of his fingers. Having slowly—_very_ slowly—worked up to three, Javier finally let himself bring his mouth back into action. And even as distant as his desires were at the moment, Javier had to admit he had still been impatient for this part, eager to taste the hot weight of Kevin's pulse resting on his tongue.

Still, he was careful not to get too caught up, because that wasn't what he was after tonight. Tonight was about Kevin—about _focus_—and if the odds were stacked against Javier getting off tonight, at least he could look forward to a slightly different kind of satisfaction.

Sometimes Javier thought that his relationship with Kevin might just be the best possible metaphor for the turn his life had taken after his disease. Because all the parts were there—still the same at first glance—when underneath the surface everything had changed. And, while Javier might have found a degree of happiness for himself that had been unimaginable to him at the start, the changes were still many, apparent, and often quite jarring. There were times when Javier almost felt as if he were a completely different person from the man he had been...

If that man had somehow been allowed a glimpse into the present—a glimpse wherein Javier knelt between his partner's thighs, lips locked firmly around Kevin's cock—he certainly wouldn't have recognized himself.

Javier still remembered his own nervousness, that first time Kevin had asked for this. Nervousness that had, he would readily admit, bordered almost comically on terror—not because he had never thought about it, but because he _had_. Javier had thought about it numerous times from the moment he had recognized his attraction to Kevin.

In fact, in the beginning it had been a favored fantasy of his, because it had arguably been one of the least distressing things Javier had imagined himself doing to his partner.

Still, the thought had bothered him, because the Javier Esposito he used to be—the Javier who had been straight, and vital, the one that had been Kevin's _friend_—would never have thought those things. And if he was no longer really that man, then Javier was left with the question of who he was now. It wasn't a question that could be answered all at once. The identity of that man—the post-vital who, in spite of everything standing against him, was beginning to enjoy life again, and who loved Kevin with all his silent heart—was something Javier was still learning every day.

Without Kevin he would never have had the courage to _start_...

Kevin's breath hitched suddenly, his body tense, and Javier could tell from the frantic pace of his heart that he was close. He pulled away, and his partner let out a faint sound—one that Javier anticipated Kevin would loudly deny was a whimper. Javier allowed himself a look at the mess he had made—at Kevin, boneless and shaking, flushed and sweating, blood staining bright patterns beneath the surface of his skin. And it was only when Javier felt this detached that he could take the time to fully enjoy seeing Kevin this way, so vividly, beautifully_ alive—_

Tonight, Javier was determined to enjoy it for as _long_ as possible.

Javier slid his hands slowly up Kevin's thighs, his partner's skin so fever-hot under his fingers it was almost painful to touch. The contact drew out another soft noise, edged with frustration, and Javier leaned down to kiss the pulse fluttering in the crease at Kevin's hip.

"_Please_..."

Kevin's voice was harsh, wrecked from heavy breathing, but the word pulled out into something that was almost a whine. Fortunately, he couldn't see Javier's pleased smile.

"You're not even swearing yet, Kev," he teased, breathing the words out against Kevin's skin, punctuating them with a gentle graze of his teeth.

"Asshole," Kevin managed, and the breathless laugh which followed was half a moan.

"Mmm, better," Javier said, testing Kevin's pulse again with a caress of his tongue.

Satisfied with the slackening rhythm of his heartbeat Javier moved in closer, nuzzling soft curls before he took partner's cock back into his mouth.

As pent up as he was, Kevin couldn't stop himself from thrusting shallowly upward, and Javier heard him make a faint, dismayed noise. It sounded apologetic, almost embarrassed. And Javier knew Kevin labored under the impression that fucking his face was somehow rude—no matter how many times Javier told him that he didn't mind. Though Javier would always love how giving and patient his partner was, this was one instance in which he wished Kevin could just let himself _take._ And one of these days, Javier was just going to have to man up and tell his partner that he kind of liked it when Kevin was rough with him...

Javier would _love_ to see where that led.

Because Kevin was still blessed with the ability to enjoy the sight of the bruises Javier left behind, sucked or bitten into his skin. But the serum beneath his own skin was nearly colorless, so it was a pleasure Javier would never be able to share, and sometimes he felt ridiculously jealous. Still, though he didn't have the benefit of that visual proof that he belonged to the other man, Javier had imagined other ways that his partner might stake his claim... He simply hadn't yet found the courage or the words to ask Kevin to abuse his throat until it was so raw that every breath he chose to take would remind Javier that he was _his_. Until then, Javier had to be content with activities like this, designed to test Kevin's control the way Kevin so very often did his own.

And, truly, when he thought of all the filthy things he had been willing to learn and to do just for Kevin, Javier had to wonder just who, in this scenario, had corrupted whom.

His heart didn't beat, and his soul was potentially forfeit, but what Javier still had left belonged to Kevin completely.


End file.
